


Kiss My Lips (I Taste Your Mouth)

by gothpandaotaku



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Sam, Episode: s05e04 The End, Fluff and Angst, HERE IS THE SPOILER, I AM ABOUT TO SPOIL THE ENDING, I repeat, M/M, STOP RIGHT HERE IF YOU DONT WANT TO BE SPOILED, Sastiel - Freeform, Suicidal Sam, Suicidal Sam Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, THERE ARE SPOILERS IN THE TAGS, Wincest - Freeform, endgame wincest, spoilers in the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7948021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothpandaotaku/pseuds/gothpandaotaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dean didn’t want him anymore.<br/>That cold, hard, indisputable fact—“Bye, Sam”—seemed to echo in Sam’s silent motel room. The place was falling apart, rotting wood, leaking ceiling, moldy walls, and he couldn’t help but think it suited him. Sitting on the edge of the lone bed in the room, Sam fiddled with the gun in his hands."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss My Lips (I Taste Your Mouth)

**Author's Note:**

> So again: Wincest, Sastiel (which is probably more than half the fic), suicidal thoughs, suicide attempt (which does not come to fruition and is not graphic in the slightest), bottom sam, and SPOILER ALERT endgame wincest (i.e. Sam ends up with Dean in the end). Sorry, I don't WANT to spoil anything, but I don't want anyone coming for the sastiel to get upset. I just want everyone to be happy, okay? 
> 
> This takes place after the phonecall between Sam and Dean in The End, and is canon divergent in the sense that Sam continues hunting (instead of going to that bar) and their separation lasts about a couple months. 
> 
> Well, if anyone's still here, I hope you enjoy!

_Dean didn’t want him anymore_.

That cold, hard, indisputable fact—“ _Bye, Sam”_ —seemed to echo in Sam’s silent motel room. The place was falling apart, rotting wood, leaking ceiling, moldy walls, and he couldn’t help but think it suited him. Sitting on the edge of the lone bed in the room, Sam fiddled with the gun in his hands.

He should do it. It was the only way to stop Lucifer, wasn’t it? The Devil lied all the time, didn’t he? He probably wouldn’t even bother to bring Sam back.

He flicked the safety off—

“Sam.”

Barely restraining himself from jumping out of his skin, Sam looked up to see Castiel, Angel of the Lord, peering at him in confusion.

“H-Hey, um, Castiel, Dean’s not here-”

“I know. I was just with him. We went to a brothel together. It was… interesting.” The angel cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, as if he were in deep contemplation, staring at Sam with his usual blank expression.

Sam wanted to laugh. Because of course, _of course,_ Dean would be living it up with an angel, while Sam was brooding in his motel room, contemplating suicide (but only for the greater good of the entire world, of course). He had to be feeling a hell of a lot lighter, now that he didn’t have the weight of _Sam_ on his back. His burden to carry, gone, dumped on the side of the road like useless baggage that was only weighing him down.

It hurt, but when it came down to it, Sam couldn’t blame Dean one bit. He was actually kind of _jealous._ God knows he _wishes_ he could dump himself too. To not be Sam Winchester, Bringer of the Apocalypse, Destroyer of Everything.

“Have you made any progress on the Lucifer front?” Castiel said in his dry voice, pulling Sam out of his morbid thoughts.

“No, nothing concrete, at least.” He fidgeted, avoiding Castiel’s gaze. He wasn’t quite sure how to talk to the angel. Probably, he should just be grateful that Castiel can even stand to be in his, an _abomination’s,_ presence long enough to work with him to try and end the apocalypse. That he started in the first place.

“I see.” Castiel continued to stare at Sam with that unnerving gaze, but he didn’t look disgusted, at least. Merely curious. “I will ‘check in’ with you soon, then.”

Sam stopped the smile from forming on his face at the angel’s use of air quotes just in time. _Did Dean teach him that?_ In any case, it probably wasn’t proper etiquette to smile at an angel.

He looked down and thought the angel had left, until he heard his dry voice again. “And Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“It won’t work. You would only succeed in making a mess, and your brother would be very… sad, should he hear about it.”

The beating of wings, and the angel was gone.

* * *

 

Every few days or so, it seemed, Castiel would randomly appear in whatever motel room Sam was occupying that night with an update on Dean. He’d keep Sam informed on Dean’s whereabouts and any injuries sustained while hunting (Sam wanted to call Dean again just to call him an idiot for hunting solo, but as he was doing the same thing, he refrained). Sometimes there’d even be a funny anecdote at the end.

“-and then the dog chased him over the fence. Dean tripped over a rock and the dog bit him on the butt. He limped for a day.”

Sam laughed, a real, actual _laugh_ , at the mental image. Dean wasn’t a fan of dogs, never had been, and he bet even less so now.

“He talks to himself a lot.”

Sam blinked and turned his full attention back on Castiel. “Sorry, what?”

“Dean. He talks to himself, as if you were there. Especially when he’s driving. Or researching a case. He’ll say, “Sammy, what do you think of this?” or “Sam, hand me the-” but you’re not there. You’re here,” Cas stated in his dry voice, as if it were nothing of consequence.

Sam cleared his throat and had to look away from the angel’s gaze that seemed to see right into his very (probably black) soul. His eyes burned and he just wanted to be alone and curl up into a ball for a while. God, he’d caught himself doing the _same_ thing all the fucking time, and he hated it. Hated that Dean still had such a hold on him, while Dean was perfectly fine on his own. Here he was, reduced to half the man he used to be. 

Sure, Dean was probably still getting used to being on his own, but he’d get over it. He’d gotten over Sam. Dean didn’t _want_ him anymore.

“Thanks, uh,” Sam coughed, “Thanks for keeping me in the loop. I really appreciate it.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side, and again Sam was reminded of a confused puppy. “You do not look happy. You appear as if you are about to cry. And what is this loop? I don’t see any loop. There’s no loop around you, Sam.”

“It’s a figure of speech. And I’m—I’m just tired, that’s all. Thanks.”

For a moment, the angel looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he said, “I will let you sleep then.”

And then Sam was alone.

* * *

 

Shit. Shit shit shit _shit_.

Sam’s hands shook as he attempted to thread the needle through his skin, but his vision was starting to blur and he couldn’t see where the hole was anymore… the entire left side of his body was covered in red… so much red…

His head felt like it was full of cotton. He knew he should stitch himself up right away, probably even go to the hospital, but he couldn’t grip the needle anymore, his hands were shaking so bad. And what was the point? Now was just as good a time as any to test out Lucifer’s promise to bring him back.

“Sam?”

Sam opened his eyes to see Castiel’s face just inches from his own. He must’ve passed out or something. The angel looked almost... concerned, if Sam didn’t know any better.

“Heyyy, Cassss,” Sam breathed. He tasted copper on his tongue.

“What happened?”

“ ‘s on a hunt... wngo.”

“A wendigo did this to you?”

Sam shook his head, swallowing back the rush of nausea and tasting more blood. “ ‘nothr hunter… ‘s already there… shot m-me.”

_“A hunter shot you?”_ And Sam could actually hear the shock in Castiel’s dry voice, could feel real emotion behind it for the first time. He wondered if the angel was spending more time with Dean, and picking up his habits.

“Monssster,” Sam murmured before closing his eyes. And then, he felt nothing.

Until what felt like lightning jolted his entire body, disappearing as fast as it came, leaving behind, a blissful, cool feeling. It was Castiel’s grace, Sam realized, blinking open his eyes and seeing the angel still invading his personal space. His entire body thrummed with it. Never in his life had ever felt so completely _peaceful,_ down to his very marrow.

“You are alright now?”

“Yes, um, thank you, thanks for healing me. That was, uh, great. Thanks,” Sam stuttered, blushing for making an idiot of himself in front of an angel of the fucking Lord.

“It was… no problem, yes?”

“Right. Um, Castiel?”

The angel stared at him.

“You can let me up now.” Sam was on the floor, still leaning against the bed from when he’d collapsed from blood loss, with Castiel kneeling on the floor a little above him, almost blanketing Sam with his body, leaving him no room to move.

“Oh.” Castiel stood, Sam following, and for a moment they simply stood and stared at each other awkwardly, neither knowing what to say. Sam opened his mouth to tell Castiel that it was okay to leave, he didn’t have to stay out of some misguided sense of obligation, when Castiel blurted, “You’re wrong.”

“Wha-” Sam was more than a little taken aback at the sudden change in direction of Castiel’s visit.

“I have seen real monsters, Sam, and you are not one of them.”

Sam stood there long after the sound of beating wings had disappeared.

* * *

 

**_“You’re going to say yes, Sam,”_** _Dean whispered, breath hot against Sam’s ear—no, no, not Dean, it wasn’t Dean._ **_“Or else your precious big brother will be the one to pay for it.”_** _And then there was blood so much blood blood everywhere Dean was bleeding bleeding bleeding so much blood everywhere and he was laughing—_

_Sam screamed._

He was still screaming as he shot up in the motel bed, unable to stop himself for several seconds. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, he just needed to hear Dean’s voice. _Dean Dean Dean._ Fingers shaking so bad it took multiple attempts to dial Dean’s number, Sam paused before he pushed down on the button to connect the call.

Dean probably wouldn’t want to talk to him anyway, most likely wouldn’t bother answering the call. _Dean didn’t want him anymore._

He backtracked and dialed a different number, body trembling all the while and worked on swallowing the lump in his throat _—it’s okay, it’s okay, he brought this on himself, the apocalypse, Lucifer_. It was one of Dean’s old numbers that he hadn’t gotten around to getting rid of yet but almost never bothered to check, the one he’d called every day since their separation, just to hear Dean’s voice.

_“You’ve reached Dean, and if you have this number, you know what to do.”_

Sam snapped the phone shut and threw it across the room before he could listen to it again, and again, like he wanted to, or even worse, break down and call Dean to beg him to take him back. But… but he _needed_ to know Dean was okay, couldn’t take another breath without knowing his brother was safe, sound, and just as beautiful as he remembered.

“C-Castiel,” Sam whispered. “Castiel, um, I-”

“Do you require assistance?” Castiel’s dry voice filled the room and Sam’s chest lost a tiny bit of the tightness surrounding it. Castiel was here, he was predictable, he was _real_.

“I didn’t mean to bother you, if you’re busy-”

“It is of no consequence. I have no new leads on the whereabouts of God, unfortunately.”

“It’s just,” Sam licked his lips and looked away from the angel’s intense stare, suddenly feeling self-conscious, “could you see if Dean’s okay? I need to know if he’s okay.”

Castiel gave his customary confused expression for a moment before disappearing without another word. Sam fiddled with the already threadbare comforter, afraid the angel had decided Sam wasn’t worthy of another moment of his time. But a couple minutes later and the beating of wings reached Sam’s ears, Castiel appearing before him once more.

“Dean is perfectly healthy. He is currently sleeping off copious amounts of alcohol in a motel in Indiana. He does appear to be constipated, however-”

“Okay, thanks, Castiel. Thanks a lot. I mean it.”

“You are welcome. Why did you need me to check on Dean? Has he been threatened?”

“No, just… a bad dream, you know?”

The angel shot Sam a look that made it clear that no, he didn’t know. “I don’t dream.”

“…Right.”

Sam thought Castiel would take off any second, but he just stood there staring at Sam. “Was it Lucifer?”

Biting, his lip, Sam nodded. “He likes to visit me in my dreams, and ‘politely’ ask me to say Yes. Usually while looking like someone else, Dean particularly.” Castiel nodded, as if that made total sense. “You don’t have to stay, you know. I was probably gonna hit the road on another hunt.”

“You should get some sleep.” To Sam’s surprise, the angel pulled up a chair alongside the bed and sat down in it, staring at Sam pointedly. “I’ll stay and watch over you.”

“Castiel, you really don’t-”

“I want to. Now sleep.”

Trying to ignore the rush of warmth bubbling in his chest and the heat in his cheeks, Sam crawled back under the covers. He didn’t think he would be able to relax with someone else in the room (someone that wasn’t Dean) but almost immediately he began to feel himself drifting off.

“G-Goodnight, Castiel.”

“Goodnight, Sam Winchester.”

For the first time in weeks, Sam slept a dreamless sleep, surrounded by grace.

* * *

 

Something changed after that night. Castiel spent more and more of his time that wasn’t spent searching for God, with Sam. Helping him with hunts, healing him, informing him of his brother’s whereabouts… sometimes even just watching him while he slept, keeping the nightmares at bay. And then there were the moments Sam didn’t know about, when Castiel chose to be invisible and just watched.

Sam Winchester was a curious creature.

At first, Castiel could not understand him. Why would a creature of God’s creation _willingly_ poison himself with the evil of demons? Couldn’t he see he was turning himself into an abomination? But then… he saw the _humanity_ in Sam Winchester. Many humans claimed to do the wrong things for the right reasons, but Sam truly was. He honestly believed he could save people with his demonic powers. And… he did. Castiel witnessed Sam save people from a burning building and from monsters; his willingness (bordering on _over_ eagerness) to sacrifice himself for the greater good. His love for his brother, Dean Winchester—his soulmate. He saw the beauty and grace in this creation of God; one of his finest, Castiel had come to believe. Sam Winchester may be Lucifer’s vessel, but Castiel knew he would never say yes.

And his soul. Castiel could only get what amounted to a mere glimpse of a soul while it still inhabited a human body, but he could tell Sam’s soul was pure and spotless. Even through a mortal body, he could see it shining brightly.

For the first time in his millennia of existence, something stirred inside Castiel.

* * *

 

“All set.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam smiled, feeling much better after being healed by the angel. Cracked ribs were a bitch to heal.

“Think about this next time you decide to take on four vampires by yourself.”

“You sound like Dean,” he chuckled, forcing the smile to stay on his face and hoping it didn’t look too fake. The angel still wasn’t good at detecting emotions, so he should be fine. Just, every mention of Dean’s name, any little thing that reminded him of Dean, made the hole inside his chest (where his heart should be), _ache_.

Sam was distracted, though, when he realized Castiel’s fingers were still on his forehead. “Um, Cas? All healed now, so…”

“I know.”

“So could you…”

“I very much enjoy physical contact with you.”

He blinked, and his mouth probably fell open the slightest bit and he probably looked like an idiot, but Sam couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard. Heat immediately flooded his face, and he knew he was blushing, but _Cas still hadn’t moved_.

Finally Sam managed to stutter out, “O-Okayyy?”

Cas didn’t appear phased at Sam’s obvious embarrassment. “Can I touch you?”

Sam’s face felt like it was on fire, and he had _no fucking idea what was happening_ , but he nodded his head yes. Without hesitation, Cas grabbed Sam’s hands and held them in his own, lightly rubbing Sam’s palms and playing with Sam’s fingers. It felt… nice, actually. It had been so long since Sam had any physical contact himself, now that he thought about it. He hadn’t touched anyone since… _Dean, a traitorous voice in his head whispered._ Sam shook his head and watched as Cas’ hands moved up Sam’s arms, spending a moment squeezing Sam’s biceps. The angel then moved on to Sam’s collarbone, his chest, his ribcage. At that touch, Sam let out a small noise. Cas looked up, catching Sam’s eyes with his intense blue ones, and poked at them again. Sam tried to cover up his laugh with a cough, but it was too late.

“It is… humorous when I touch your sides? Why?” Cas asked, moving his fingers up and down the sides of Sam’s ribs, and Sam couldn’t the laughter back any longer. “It’s, it’s called, being t-ticklish,” he breathed between bouts of laughter. His laughter seemed to amuse the angle, whose own lips quirked up into a small smile.

It was a good look on him, Sam thought.

Cas’ hands drift lower and lower, stopping to fiddle with Sam’s bare feet much like he did with his hands. Suddenly, he’s changed direction and is back at Sam’s face, leaning in closer. “Your skin is very soft,” he said quietly, running a thumb over Sam’s lips. Sam’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest, with the angel starting at him so intensely. Then Cas was cupping his cheeks, gently, so gently, and leaning in closer and closer until their lips brushed together.

Sam jerked away. “What—what was that?!”

“I wanted our lips to touch.”

“That’s called a kiss, Cas, and only people that are physically attracted to each other, like romantically, do that.”

“And I am physically attracted to you.”

“I—what--?” Sam sputtered, feeling like his brain was malfunctioning or something, because nothing was making sense anymore.

“I want to kiss you some more.” Cas leaned in and Sam—Sam didn’t stop him. He let Cas kiss him. He kissed _back_. He _wanted_ Cas to kiss him, to touch him. “Can I touch you more?” Cas whispered, breathing into Sam’s mouth, already looking debauched in such a short amount of time.

Sam nodded. Cas’ fingertips brushed against his skin, pulling his shirt up and off, before reattaching himself to Sam’s lips again and running his fingers down Sam’s chest and stomach. Clothes were falling haphazardly on the floor, Cas’ hands were all over him, Cas’ tongue was in his mouth.

It was so surreal that for a moment Sam couldn’t breathe. An _angel’s_ hands were on him, an _angel_ was kissing him, when not too long ago Dean was the only one who had ever touched him like this. Before Sam started the apocalypse. Before Dean called him a monster. Before Dean didn’t want him anymore. Before, before, before.

_Dean didn’t want him anymore._

He lost himself in the sensations of Cas’ hands roaming over his body, the taste of his lips, and the burn of opening himself up after all this time. He allowed himself to let go, to stop thinking and just _feel_.

“Are you sure, Sam?” Cas asked, pulling away ever so slightly. Sam already missed his warmth.

“You’re the only other person I trust to do this with, Cas. I’m more than sure,” Sam murmured, pulling Cas back into another heated kiss. He relaxed his body, and let Cas in.

XXX

What the angel lacked in experience, he sure made up for in enthusiasm. Cas gave Sam no time to adjust once he bottomed out inside him, fucking into Sam with hard, rapid thrusts. He relentlessly _pounded_ Sam’s prostate. Sam felt like he couldn’t breathe, Cas was so deep inside him, but somehow, impossibly, Cas thrust even _deeper,_ until Sam could feel him in his guts.

“Oh—my— _god_ ,” Sam keened. “Ah! Ah! Ah!” He wrapped his legs around Cas’ waist and held on for dear life as his moaning seemed to spur Cas to thrust even faster. The bed banged loudly against the wall with the force of his thrusts; Sam knew he was going to have bruises the next day.

Dean had never _fucked_ him like this, never been rough with him like this. With Dean, there had been tender kisses, murmured “ _Sammy, Baby Boy, you’re so good for me_ ,” caresses, and even what Sam liked to pretend could have been silent “ _I love yous.”_

But there would be no more tender kisses. Ever again.

So Sam breathed in the angel’s spicy, otherworldly scent, felt warmth pool in his belly and knew he was close. Cas’ hips stuttered once, twice, and hot come filled him up.

Sam came with a cry of Cas’ name. Cas all but collapsed on top of him, burying his face in the crook of Sam’s neck, inhaling his scent. He was hot and sticky, but Sam didn’t mind too much; the angel’s weight was comforting and he’d always enjoyed the feeling of being full. _(Dean used to like to sleep still buried deep inside Sam after a long night of lovemaking)_. Cas pulled out a few minutes later, and Sam could feel a stream of come leaking out of his ass, but instead of getting up and leaving, as Sam had guessed he would, he curled up next to Sam.

“…Cas?”

“Yes, Sam.”

“What are you doing?”

“I am lying next to you, as we are currently engaging in “pillow talk,” the angel raised his fingers in over-emphasized air quotes, “That is what humans do after fornicating, yes?”

“You don’t have to stay,” Sam blushed. “I know you don’t sleep.”

“I want to stay. I want to hold you.” Only Cas could deliver such cheesy lines with a straight face, Sam thought. With a small smile on his face, Sam shifted so that his head was laying on the angel’s shoulder.

“I enjoyed that very much,” Cas stated just as Sam was drifting off to sleep. Sam laughed for the first time in weeks.

In the middle of the night, Sam’s phone rang.

* * *

 

_You're like an Indian summer_  
In the middle of winter  
Like a hard candy  
With a surprise center  
How do I get better  
Once I've had the best  
You said there's  
Tons of fish in the water  
So the waters I will test

_He kissed my lips_  
I taste your mouth  
He pulled me in  
I was disgusted with myself

_Cause when I'm with him_  
I am thinking of you  
Thinking of you  
What you would do if  
You were the one  
Who was spending the night  
Oh I wish that I  
Was looking into your eyes

_-“Thinking of You” by Katy Perry_

* * *

 

Dean wanted back in.

Dean was coming back.

_He was going to see Dean again!_

Sam set the phone down and took a deep breath that did little to calm his nerves, shoving the sudden burst of elation down wherever the hell it came from. He was getting ahead of himself here. Just because Dean wanted to work together again, didn’t mean he _wanted_ Sam again.

_Dean didn’t want him anymore._

XXX

They met back up at a truckstop in Indiana. It was strange and mostly silent. Sam felt like the same awkward fifteen-year-old kid he used to be, pining after any scrap of affection his big brother would show him.

Dean finished loading the last of the weapons they’d split between them after they parted ways back into the Impala and shut the trunk. Sam turned to his own (beat-up, stolen) car and opened the door, ready to climb inside and follow Dean wherever he wanted to go.

“Well? You comin’?” Dean said, a little gruff, motioning towards the Impala.

“You… want to take one car?” Sam asked incredulously. It sounded too good to be true, that Dean could ever want to be _that_ close to him again.

“Easier, ain’t it?” Dean shot him the “you’re an idiot little brother” look that he always used to when exasperated by something Sam did. It was gone in a moment, but it made something dangerously close to hope rise in Sam’s chest.

“Right, yeah, of course.” Sam grabbed his bags and climbed into the passenger seat.

Dean didn’t say a single word.

* * *

 

They hunted. It was everything Sam wanted, being with Dean again. But it wasn’t the same. Not when Dean wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Not when Dean treated him like something that needed to be _watched_.

Unbeknownst to Dean, nearly every night Cas would lay beside Sam in their motel room of the week and keep the nightmares at bay. Sam was eternally grateful, as it was the only way he managed to get any sleep. He would make himself as small as possible and curl into the angel’s form, resting his head on Cas’ shoulder. Sometimes, as he drifted off to sleep, he thought he felt the softness and warmth of wings surrounding him.

One night Cas never showed up, probably busy searching for God. Maybe he even had a lead. Sam settled in for a long night of staring at the ceiling and pretending to sleep, not wanting to risk seeing Lucifer in his dreams. But he must have been more exhausted than he thought, and drifted off to sleep sometime in the night.

_“Come on, Sam. Say yes. You know you want to,” Lucifer taunted, wearing Dean’s face again. “If you say yes, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Including your brother. You want big brother here to love you again, don’t you?”_

_“No,” Sam shook his head. He didn’t want to look at D-Lucifer, it was Lucifer.  “No, no, no.”_

“Sam! Wake up!”

Sam jolted awake, breathing heavily. Dean—the real Dean’s—face hovered above him, looking concerned. At least Sam thought it was concern, it could have been disgust for all he knew. “I’m awake, I’m fine.”

“What was that? You kept screaming ‘no’ in your sleep.”

“Nothing. I’m fine, I’m fine,” Sam repeated. Maybe if he said it enough, it would come true. “Thanks for waking me up, you can go back to sleep now.”

Dean scowled. “You’re not going to have another nightmare, are you?”

“No.” That was probably a lie, but Dean didn’t need to know that. He’d just stay awake the rest of the night so he wouldn’t wake Dean up again.

Rolling his eyes, Dean muttered, “Scooch over, Sasquatch,” and proceeded to climb into bed next to Sam.

“Dean, what-”

“I need my beauty sleep. And you, definitely need it more than me. So go to sleep.”

Sam’s heart was racing, how the hell was he supposed to fall asleep? He never expected to feel the warmth of Dean’s body next to him again, even if it wasn’t quite the same. Knowing this might be his only chance, Sam quietly shifted a little closer, hoping Dean had fallen back asleep. But Dean was still awake, and instead of leaving, like Sam thought he would, he leaned into Sam and moved closer.

He wanted the moment to last forever, to savor it, but Sam fell into a dreamless sleep almost instantly, surrounded by love and safety.

* * *

 

Sam rode Cas, fucking himself on the angel’s dick like a pro. He enjoyed the look of awe on Cas’ face, and the low moans he made when he ground down. Dean was out at the nearest dive, and likely wouldn’t be back for hours.

Cas grabbed Sam by the hips and thrust up into him, making Sam cry out a litany of moans. Neither lasted very long, and soon Sam was crying out his release, followed by Cas. As had become routine, they lay in bed afterwards. Sam was just drifting off when the door opened and Dean walked in.

He froze, taking in the scene before him. _“What. The. Fuck?”_

Dean was _seething_ with anger and confusion, but Sam was too startled to even move. He opened his mouth, but no words would come out.

“Someone explain to me what the fuck is going on here,” Dean hissed.

“Sam and I were fornicating, and then you walked through the door,” Cas stated, and Sam buried his face in his hands.

Dean’s eyes grew dark, and for a moment Sam was afraid he was going to hit Cas. “Cas, let me handle this, okay? Why don’t you go back to the search, and I’ll see you later?”

“Since when do you call him Cas-”

Cas looked at Dean, shaking with rage, and looked back to Sam, apparently just now realizing the gravity of the situation. “Are you sure you want me to leave?”

“I’m not going to fucking hurt him! But another word and I might gank your feathered ass, you-”

“Cas, just go!” The angel nodded and with the beating of wings, was gone. Dean turned to look at Sam, still covered only by a sheet, and outright sneered at him. “Put some fucking clothes on, and let’s talk.”

Blinking back tears of embarrassment, Sam quickly grabbed the clothes off the floor and shoved them on. He could feel Dean staring holes in the back of his head, the absolute disgust radiating from him.

“A demon wasn’t bad enough, so you had to fuck an angel too, is that it?”

“It’s not like that-”

“Well then, how is it? Can you _relate_ to them, Sam? Do they _understand_ you, better than your flesh and blood human brother?” Dean’s words dripped with venom. Hearing them, something inside of Sam just… broke.

“You didn’t _want_ me anymore!” Sam yelled, raising his voice because he needed to get this out, needed Dean to understand, and his emotions were so all over the place it was overwhelming. “I came to you, practically begging you to take me back, and you didn’t _want_ me, remember? And that’s okay, I get it. I wouldn’t want me either. So please, stop forcing yourself to act like you care. You don’t have to play the big brother role anymore. Things aren’t the same between us, and they never will be, so just stop, stop pretending.”

_Something_ in Dean’s face changed, but Sam couldn’t tell what, and he wasn’t used to not being able to read his brother like an open book. It scared him. “Sam, come on-”

“Shouldn’t this be a relief to you? Now that you don’t have to _‘watch out for Sammy’_?”

“I haven’t been with anyone else in _years_ , Sam! Since the moment I picked you up from Stanford, all I’ve ever wanted was _you!_ ” And Sam could see, in Dean’s eyes shining with unshed tears like the brightest of jewels, that he meant it. He could _feel_ the raw hurt radiating off his brother.

But Sam was hurt too, and he didn’t know what to do.

So he grabbed his duffel and starts shoving anything his hands grab into it, swallowing the lump in his throat and ignoring the way his eyes burn because he won’t cry, he _won’t_.

“Where are you going?”

“That motel we passed a couple miles back,” Sam answers calmly, almost robotically.

“Sam, come on, you don’t have to do that. I didn’t mean it, okay? Get back here, and let’s talk about this-”

“No, you did. I’m leaving, and I don’t think we should see each other for a while. It was a mistake, thinking we could work together again.” Sam slams the door behind and doesn’t look back, even when he can hear Dean calling his name.

* * *

 

_Suppose I called you up tonight and told you that I loved you_  
And suppose I said "I wanna come back home"  
And suppose I cried and said "I think I finally learned my lesson"  
And I'm tired a-spendin' all my time alone

_If I told you that I realized you're all I ever wanted_  
And it's killin' me to be so far away  
Would you tell me that you loved me too and would we cry together?  
Or would you simply laugh at me and say

_"I told you so, oh I told you so_  
I told you some day you'd come crawling back and asking me to take you in  
I told you so, but you had to go  
Now I found somebody new and you will never break my heart in two again"

_-“I Told You So” by Carrie Underwood_

* * *

 

Sam’s phone rang for the twelfth time that night. Sam groaned and threw a pillow over his head to drown out the incessant ringing. He knew he should probably shut the damn thing off, but a small part of him was comforted by the fact that Dean was still trying to contact him.

“Either shut your phone off or answer him,” Castiel sighed from his spot next to Sam in the motel bed. “I may be a celestial being, but even I have limits to my patience.”

“Caaaaassss,” Sam whined, “You’re supposed to be on _my_ side.”

“I am on your side. And I know you’re miserable without him. It’s only been twelve days, and you’re lying in bed moping. At least listen to the messages, how about that?”

Sam scowled, but begrudgingly picked up his phone and dialed his voicemail. The first one was from five minutes after he’d left the motel Dean was staying at.

“Sam, come back here. Please. I’m sorry, alright? Can we just talk about this?” Beep.

“I’m not leaving the motel, so you can find me when you’re ready, okay? Sammy? Please?” Beep.

“Sammy, look. I’m not mad at you, okay? I’m sorry for everything I said. I know I fucked up. I just… I don’t know. I need you. Come back.” Beep.

The next few messages are much the same, but with each one Dean’s words grew more and more slurred and nonsensical at times. Sam’s heart _hurt_ and every fiber of his being ached to be with his brother. Dean sounds like he’s falling apart, and Sam wants to put him back together. But…

_Dean doesn’t want him anymore._

Right?

The final message began playing and Sam listened intently.

“Saaaammmyyyyy. My li’l brother. Where are ya? Come baaaaaaack.” There was a pause, and then gutwrenching sobs filled the silence. “Sammmmy, I love you. Mo’ than ‘nything. I looove you. loooove you.”

Sam gasped. In all these years, Dean had never said he loved him, not in so many words. Of course he knew (or at least he used to) that Dean loved him, it was in his actions, every sacrifice he made. But to hear it after all this time? After everything he’d done? Could it possibly be true? Just the thought of it was enough to send Sam’s head spinning.

“Bby boy, please, please, I’m s’ry, I’m s’ry, I’m s’ry,” Deans’ drunken slurring was suddenly interrupted by a loud crash, and then echoing silence. Beep.

“Cas, I gotta-” Sam’s heart raced, screaming to be with its other half, needing to know that Dean was okay.

The angel nodded, his fingers already on Sam’s forehead. Sam blinked, and they were in front of Dean’s room.

“Dean is mostly fine, he was drunk and tripped over a coffee table,” Cas said upon sensing Dean’s steady breaths through the door. Sam breathed a sigh of relief and reached for the door handle. “Sam wait, I have to say something.”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I am an angel. I do not have a soul, thus I cannot love like humans do. But what I feel for you, Sam Winchester… that is what I imagine love must be like. I love you, and I’m your friend first and foremost, always.”

“Oh, Cas,” Sam couldn’t resist giving the angel one last goodbye kiss and a bonecrushing hug. He loved Cas, too. He was the best friend he’d ever had, and probably ever will. But Cas wasn’t _Dean,_ wasn’t his soulmate.

“I’ll always be here if you need me. Just say my name.”

“Thanks Cas!” Sam called behind him, throwing open the door. Dean was lying on the floor, next to a small puddle of his own sick. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor around him. A chair was strewn across the floor, probably what caused Dean to fall. Sam breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he checked Dean’s pulse and saw that he was perfectly fine, just sleeping off the alcohol now.

He cleaned Dean up, changing his clothes and gently setting him underneath the covers of the bed, Dean making small noises in his sleep, some that sounded suspiciously like his name. Sam quickly scrubbed the floor and threw Dean’s dirty clothes into their laundry bag, before crawling into bed next to his brother.

This. This was his home. This is where he belonged. His face buried in Dean’s neck, their bodies as close as two bodies possibly could be.

Dean shifted closer and murmured in his sleep. Sam was sure he’d just roll over and fall back asleep, but Dean blinked his bleary eyes open. He didn’t say a word, just continued to stare at Sam. After several moments, Sam was sure he was about to insane with self-consciousness.

And then Dean started crying. Gasping sobs, wracking his entire body.

“Dean, hey hey hey, shhhh,” Sam murmured, pulling Dean into his arms. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck and clung to him like an octopus. “What’s wrong, De?” Dean had always been a relatively  happy drunk, he didn’t ever remember him being like this even after his worst benders.

Dean continued to sob for a few minutes while Sam all but cooed at him, until he blurted out, voice raspy and raw, “I love you. I love you so much. Please don’t leave me, Sammy. Don’t leave me. I need you. Can’t be without you. Can’t do this without you, can’t do anything without you. I hated it. These past couple months. Being without you. I hated it, I hated it. I thought you’d be better off without me, the guy who started the damn apocalypse, but I just can’t do it. I love you too much. I love you.” The words tumbled out of Dean in one long breath, so fast he stuttered and stumbled through the whole thing. He sucked in a shaky breath when he couldn’t bring himself to utter another word, and looked to Sam for his reaction.

Sam’s eyes were filled with tears and suddenly the roles were reversed, Dean’s arms full of little brother. “I love you too, Dean. So much. More than anything. But H-How…” Sam hiccupped.

“How what, Baby Boy?”

“How can you love me? After everything I’ve done?”

“No no no, shhhh. Sammy, it’s not like that, never has been. Nothing, in the history of the world, is your fault. None of it. You say you ended the world, but to me, you _are_ the world.”

“It’s not your fault, either,” Sam countered.

Dean laughed, a wet, bittersweet laugh, wiping the tears from his eyes. “We’re pretty fucked up, aren’t we?”

“I’d say so. We make quite the pair.”

They lay there, so wrapped up in each other, so tangled, that neither would ever find their way out. They didn’t want to. The world was ending, and for this too-short moment in time, they couldn’t care less.

“You… still _want_ me?” Sam murmured, so quietly it was almost inaudible. But Sam’s head was on his chest, so Dean heard every word.

“Of course, Baby Boy. I’ll _always_ want you.”

Words escaped him. Sam wanted nothing more than to show Dean just how much he loved him, with kiss after kiss after kiss. So he did. He kissed Dean like never before, and Dean kissed him back like never before. Gone were the old insecurities and hesitations, leaving only a pair of souls becoming whole again.

The kisses grew more heated and passionate and soon clothes were strewn across the floor. Dean opened Sam up slowly, tenderly, as if he were afraid Sam would break, or disappear. Only Sam’s very vocal assurances that it felt good, more than good, were enough to make Dean keep going. The entire time Dean’s lips were molded against Sam’s lips, or dick, as Sam moaned.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” Dean growled against Sam’s lips. “You’re mine?”

“Yours. Always,” Sam keened. Dean entered him one agonizing inch at a time. When he finally bottomed out, he didn’t move, and Sam thought he was going to go crazy if Dean didn’t move _right fucking now_. _“Dean, Dean, Dean.”_

Dean loved him. And loved him, and loved him some more, making love to Sam all night long. Even after Sam didn’t think he’d be able to come one more time, Dean wrung another amazing orgasm out of him. Dean whispered “Perfect,” “Baby Boy,” “Beautiful,” and “I love you,” while he thrust at a mind-blowing pace into Sam’s sweet spot every time. Sam moaned and cried Dean’s name in time with his thrusts.

It was perfect. For the first time in his life, Sam felt _whole._

That night, Sam lay awake in bed after Dean had fallen asleep. He felt at peace, wrapped in Dean’s arms. Dean was right (not that he’d ever say that out loud, lest he be subjected to his brother’s smug grin and teasing). He belonged to Dean, body and soul. He was born to love Dean. And, at least he liked to think so, Dean was born to love him, too.

They were going to find God, stop the apocalypse, and get through this.

Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking it out til the end! I'd love to hear your thoughts on my first sastiel/wincest piece~!


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